The Benton Scholars at the Golden Gate National Recreation Area.

The following post was written by Mallory Keller ’17, who just returned from the Benton Scholars’ spring break trip to Silicon Valley. An aspiring educator, Mallory reflects on the future of higher education and the importance of building community.

I started this trip doubtful about the future of online education. For almost a year, the Benton Scholars program has focused on online education in a university setting; we took online courses ourselves, then hosted speakers who are leaders in the field of online education. We are even designing and participating an online class for Colgate University–working together to see if it is possible for a small, liberal arts university to exist online, and in what capacity. There was a wide range of opinions and experiences with online education across the group of us who went on the trip and, at least for myself, I was hoping this trip would change my opinion.

Our first visit was to Minerva, an online institution that opened this year, that aspires to change the concept of an university. Minerva felt very much like a start-up, which at least for myself, is not something I want to feel from my university. Maybe it is the social construct that has been engraved in my brain since I was young, but I still view a university as a campus with huge, beautiful buildings with students lounging on the quad, throwing a frisbee around. To enroll in a school like Minerva, you have to be able to take risks, and I am not willing to do that with my education. The next day we visited Khan Academy and were able to sit down and talk with Sal Khan, the founder. We all had read his book, The One World Schoolhouse, and we were full of questions to ask him. We discussed the future of online education, and I feel like the conclusion of the discussion was that online education is a supplement to what a student learns in the classroom, but it cannot replace the physical classroom.

The Benton Scholars visit Big Bend Redwood State Park.

While some online spaces may foster this, the one thing that I value most in my education, and the thing that I find missing in online education, is the sense of community that is created on a campus. There is a bond that is formed from being in a physical space with the same people day after day, which I do not think exists online. While you can be logged-on and participating in discussions at the same time as others, you are in different physical spaces, like your home, a coffee shop, or the library. The importance of community was shown through this trip as well. At the end of their freshman year, the Benton Scholars’ freshman class takes a trip together abroad, so I was already pretty close with the other sophomores on this trip. However, there were freshmen and seniors on the trip that I was not as close with, and I enjoyed that we were able to get to know each other more during the four days. While the purpose of this trip was to learn about online education, I think it also helped create a greater sense of community in the Benton Scholar program.

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The Benton Scholars meet for a discussion during their trip to San Francisco in March, 2015. (Photo by Karen Harpp.)

Quanzhi Guo ’18 traveled with the Benton Scholars to San Francisco during March, 2015. Their trip explored innovation in the education and technology sectors and included visits to Khan Academy, the Minerva Project, and Tesla–as well as a hike through Big Basin Redwood State Park. In what follows, Quanzhi reflects on this experience, and on the importance of a dynamic and engaging liberal arts education. (A longer version of this blog post is featured at China Personified.)

On the ninth floor overlooking the busy San Francisco downtown, everyone is working on Macs in open-plan stations—the atmosphere feels like any startup in California.

But I am in a school, with no students in sight — Minerva Schools at KGI, a new institution that hopes to shake the whole education sector.

Over spring break, I traveled with an online education-themed Benton trip to San Francisco, where we visited both Minerva and Khan Academy.

The Benton seminar I am taking this semester is called the Advent of Atomic Bomb, which examines the history, science, and ethics behind atomic bomb. My experience had been, so far, bittersweet. While it is interesting and intellectually stimulating to engage with alumni from all age groups and various walks of life online, the workload is heavier. Besides the normal assigned readings and project-based homework offline, we need to watch the lectures online beforehand because class-time is reserved for advanced discussion. So we are expected to master the basics on our own time. This targeted and technology-enhanced blend is challenging and rigorous–it is the way I want to be pushed.

Benton Scholars listen to a presentation at Minerva in downtown San Francisco.

To me, Minerva is exciting. However, while living in six countries (students at Minerva live in a new city each semester) and being one of a select few has allure (last year, the acceptance rate was only 2.8%), I question the real meaning behind it. Does being physically present in a country, spending most of your time taking online classes in dorms, while going shopping and sightseeing on weekends, equate to immersion in a foreign culture? Aren’t existing study-abroad programs, which allow students to take classes in local universities and live in host families, more authentic? For affordability, at least Colgate subsidizes all expenses for students receiving financial aid. Similarly with diversity: Does having a higher number of international students necessarily mean more different perspectives? At Minerva, one can definitely take advantage of urban resources; but how can you truly make use of it in Berlin if you can’t speak German, or Barcelona if you can’t speak Spanish?

Then there was Sal Khan, who sat on an organic-style stool at Khan Academy, talking about how he started making tutorials to improve the accessibility of new information. Thanks to people like Sal Khan, information is becoming more freely accessible, so class time can be reserved for engaged and deeper-level discussions, for skill development and real-life interaction. And I really appreciate how Colgate, too, can offer that–all with classes of size no more than 20.

Benton Scholars meet with Sal Khan to discuss the future of online education.

When we discussed and shared views over a cup of coffee in the afternoon sun, I realized that what I value after nearly a year at Colgate is the sense of connection. Personally, I hate the panic when my computer breaks down and an online submission is due soon. Also, I don’t want to just “like” my classmate’s answer by clicking a button. I want to give him a pat or high-five with a wide grin. Most importantly, I treasure how my professors interact with me, not just in class or office hours, but how they share with me their life stories over home-cooked dinner, after guests’ lectures, and during trips like this one.

I don’t think that brick-and-mortar universities will be obsolete soon, but it can definitely become better. Technology is never a substitute, but a complement to make things better.

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From the baseball diamond to the chess board, from the cricket pitch to a Go grid: local communities often provide a place for people to play games and sports together. This week, notice which games and activities are most popular. Where are they played? Are these locations easily accessible? Is there a fee to play? What times of day are games played? If you are already familiar with these games, do you notice any local modifications that give the game a different look or feel? Take a picture of a public gaming space.

Ryan Hildebrandt ’17, Psychology & Japanese

An arcade near a school campus in Kyoto

Gaming spaces in Japan’s cities are quite varied. There are usually baseball and soccer fields flanking minor rivers, and several games like Go and Shogi are common in homes across Japan. But one of the more conspicuous gaming spaces belongs to the pachinko houses and arcade/casinos. These can be found nearly anywhere (there was one about 30 seconds walk from our campus in Kyoto), and usually are brightly lit with signs covered in anime-characters and flashing lights. The street pictured (in Akihabara in Tokyo) is an example of the kind of lights and buildings in which the larger pachinko houses and arcades are housed.

Adam Basciano ’16, International Relations

There are not too many open and public gaming spaces in Israel. A main reason for that is simply because there is just not enough land, let alone flat land. The housing market and the rapidly rising prices of buying a home is a testament to this, and it has been a major point of emphasis during the election season. Nonetheless, it is not uncommon to pass by a basketball court here in Jerusalem. Most courts are also used for soccer games as well with goals at each end. For the fun-seekers who are no longer part of the soccer or basketball circles, plenty of Israelis play backgammon (or sheshpesh in the local dialect) outside markets or coffee shops. 

A basketball court in Jerusalem

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People who use a local accent or dialect occasionally confront discrimination. According to a recent survey conducted in the United Kingdom, 28% of people reported being treated differently, just because of the way they speak. At the same time, 80% of employers admitted to discriminating against people based on their accent. Of course, neither accents nor dialects are legally-protected categories, so pressure to conform is very real. And while YouTube provides virtual coaching on “The Queen’s English” (called Received Pronunciation), online databases document the remarkable richness of the English language as it can be, and actually is, spoken. This week, listen closely to how both you and the people around you speak. Are you living in a country where English is the dominant language? Whether you are or aren’t, can people tell you are American? Does this make you self-conscious, or are you proud to “sound different?” Alternatively, can you tell where people are from when they speak to you? Among your friends and acquaintances, is there pressure to conform, to use language in a certain way? Are people treated differently based on their willingness (or ability) to conform to a normalized accent?

Ryan Hildebrandt ’17, Psychology & Japanese

The two main, or at least famous, regions in Japan are Kanto and Kansai, the former being home to the current capital, Tokyo, and the latter the old capital, Kyoto, as well as several other major cities. Between these two regions, there’s sort of a rivalry akin to something you would see between New York City and Philadelphia, or Texas and anywhere in the world claiming to be better than Texas. Besides some sports-team loyalties and a few signature foods here and there, the main difference between the two regions is the dialect of Japanese spoken. Kansai, although largely metropolitan, is considered by people within and without to be countryside, made up stereotypically of farmers and people who would be scared by the sight of a skyscraper (I can tell you, this is very, very false). Within Kansai, the dialect spoken, known as Kansai-ben, has become famous in Japan and abroad as being like an entirely different language. It might be the case that if you put a person who lived their entire life in Kanto and only spoke Kanto-ben into conversation with someone speaking the thickest, most heavily laid on version of Kansai-ben ever heard on this earth, there might be some difficulty communicating. The reality is, the differences lie mostly in a few key words and conjugations that, while they do stand out from Kanto-ben, aren’t terribly difficult or troublesome to understand, even to non-native speakers. Even so, the rivalry and dialectic schism continues between the two regions (although as far as I’m concerned, Kansai-ben is more fun).

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City Hall: City Hall: it’s not just an institution, a faceless bureaucracy, it’s also a physical place — a symbol of a community, its values, and collective interests. In the United States, the architecture of the building itself is likely to vary in accordance with local tastes and history: fromGeorgian andArt Deco, toBeaux Arts orBrutalist. But no matter how they look, all typically share a few things in common: they house administrative activities that articulate the human experience. Births, deaths, and marriages are all commonly registered here. This week, find your local city, town, or county hall. Take a picture of it and tell us how civic life is structured. Why do people visit city hall? Is there a mayor? Is there a civic council of some kind? If there is no city hall, photograph some other place where people gather to make community decisions (a school, a pub, a church).

Adam Basciano ’16, International Relations

There certainly is a distinct City Hall here in Jerusalem. It sits right in the center of “downtown” Jerusalem and is conveniently located on the city’s light rail. The City Hall square contains a large courtyard surrounded by administrative buildings. The courtyard contains multiple types and styles of art, including this old depiction of a world map (below) that has Jerusalem at the center of the world [of Europe, Asia, and Africa]:

A map in Jerusalem’s City Hall of Jerusalem as the center of the world

It is unfortunate to note that Jerusalem’s City Hall was the precise site of Israel’s latest terror attack. On February 22^nd, an 18-year-old Palestinian stabbed an orthodox Israeli man. It turns out that Jerusalem’s mayor, Nir Barkat, and his security team were on the scene as it happened. The Mayor can be seen on video subduing and apprehending the terrorist, prompting him to become somewhat of a national hero in a country that is used to hearing these stories.

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